“Exactly. Understand that aiming at the kids would be way outside civilized rules. Shooting Cajeiri—maybe. Me or our host, again—permissible. But don’t rely on civilized rules with this enemy. Public opinion hasn’t stopped them. They wantthe public terrified.”
Jase nodded. “Understood.”
“One opinion they do fear—is Lord Geigi. They now know they’d be small burned spots if Geigi lands one of his machines in their district. That word has gotten around, and nobody wants another of those machines to wake up. Everythingin their eyes is politics—and they think the one he did turn on was purely a demonstration of what he can do.”
“Not far wrong on that score,” Jase said. “I have the picture.”
“These are a type you and I know. From your first visit. If you want my opinion—it’s the same lot. Deep connections. But we’re getting close to the heart of their operation. I am, frankly, very glad you’re here.”
“What are friends for? I’ll explain the situation to the kids, without scaring them. They haven’t caught that noisy little creature, have they?”
“They haven’t. They probably won’t. They’re arboreal. They go for the deep woods. And there’s a small woods between us and the Kadagidi, and a very big one, well, you saw the area around the train station. Taiben, forest from one end to the other, very friendly territory for that little creature. I’m afraid he’s lost his pet.”
“Too bad,” Jase said. “Interesting little creature. But if we can have our holiday without a shooting war—ideally without the kids or their parents ever noticing there’s been a problem during their visit, well, except the grandfather—I won’t explain it to them. Briefing Geigi and the captains, yes.”
“Definitely,” Bren said.
• • •
There was supper, an uncommonly very fine supper. The cook was doing his best, given the young gentleman’s grandfather dying, his disappointment at being restricted from hisbirthday gift, and his having lost his parid’ja into the bargain. Do him credit, the boy had been bearing up with a determination that Bren feared even to compliment, for fear the boy would dissolve on the spot. He was bearing up on a sheer charge of nervous energy—that downhill rush that could spin into disaster if one began to notice anything but the obstacles. Dodge, dodge, and dodge. Keep going. Smile. Keep his guests from upset. Bren knew that state of mind. Knew the effort it took the boy to laugh when the others did.
Did the guests pick it up? Bren had a slight suspicion they did—and theyhad had warnings up and down the line to avoid any emotional upset with atevi. They were surrounded by strangeness, they were fed unfamiliar things, and there were signs all around them that there might be dangers, that their atevi hosts were trying to keep it from them, and that Cajeiri’s grandfather was not only dead, not of natural causes, but nobody was acting in the least sorry about it. He had no complete knowledge of what Jase had told them when he talked to them, but they were getting a quick lesson on what upset atevi looked like, and they were doing their best to eat what was put in front of them and get it down their throats no matter what it tasted like.
“Nadi,” Bren said to one of the servants, the one bearing the bitter-spiced eggs, and ladling two onto his plate, “the human children will find this too strong for them and will be embarrassed. Kindly pass by them.”
“Nandi,” the servant said, going on his way, and Bren managed one egg, with a healthy dose of sweet relish.
There was nothing but pleasant talk. Cajeiri and Jase translated for the guests their elders’ assurances the weather would stay fair, assurances that Cajeiri’s mecheita would be stabled here quite happily and would always be available for him—and Tatiseigi’s personal regrets for the inconvenience of the change in schedule.
The attempt to have the herd-leader locate their problem had not gone well—or given them any reassurance it had been a stray leaf or an electrical malfunction. Someone had strewn a massive amount of deterrent in the area. The mecheita had gotten a nose full of it, shied off, and they had just had to let him run it out—which had taken him much too close to the Taibeni camp at the eastern end of the estate. If he had not had his sense of smell disrupted, and if the wind had been blowing in the other direction, they would have had a serious problem. They had warned the Taibeni—but riders had also gone out from Tatiseigi’s stable and found him in time to get him calmed down. They were back in the stable, the grooms had treated the poor fellow with vapors and an abundance of water, and Tatiseigi was both irate, and now convinced it was a Kadagidi spy, equipped with the noxious weed, and somewhere on his premises.
The children had seen some of the goings-on from their window. They had sent Veijico down to find out what was going on. House security had informed Veijico. Veijico had doubtless told her team, and told Cajeiri what was going on. Whether Cajeiri had then told the real story to his guests—one was not sure. But they had their door locked and that young aishid was doing everything by the book . . . a very good thing, in Bren’s opinion.
Tatiseigi signaled a desire for attention, and declared that there would be a treat tomorrow in place of the canceled ride. A tour of the basement collections.
It was, after a long and trying day, a complete puzzlement to the youngsters—Cajeiri and the human children looked equally as if they had missed a translation.
Tatiseigi said, “You shall see, you shall see,” and was amused.
“You will enjoy it, Great-grandson,” Ilisidi said, preserving the mystery, and young spirits visibly lifted. A mystery. A treat. And Tatiseigi, God save them, was going to take the youngsters in charge.
Dessert arrived. Between a mystery and an abundance of sugar, the human youngsters’ spirits rose. The guests were happy . . . and Cajeiri had a second helping of cake.
15
The bitter-spiced eggs had been a mistake. Cajeiri decided he never wanted another one.
He was exhausted. But he had had enough sugar his nerves were wound tight. Everyone was in that state: Lieidi and Eisi had had their supper in the room, and Antaro and Jegari were down in the dining room, having theirs, along with Banichi and Jago and Cenedi and Nawari and Tatiseigi’s senior bodyguard, Rusani, and the rest.
There was every chance they were going to find out somethingof what was going on. He had heard about the powder, and the herd-leader nearly running up on the Taibeni camp. That was nasty—and it was mean, and it was a very good thing nobody had been outside that camp right then. There had been two searchers out in the little woods, and at least they could climb a tree, but that was just scary, what could have happened.
And some of the Taibeni were Antaro’s and Jegari’s cousins. They were not pleased with the trick, either.
“If my cousins lay hands on that fellow,” Jegari had said, “they will give him a dose of his black powder.”
He and his aishid agreed.
“It is certain,” Veijico told them then, “that there is someone here up to no good. And it seems that person is stillhere. He tried to get out, then realized he had set off the alarm, and went back into his hole.”
“Maybe,” Jegari said in a hushed voice, “he is in the basement.”
Thatwas the scariest thing anyone had said yet. Great-uncle was going to take them on a tour of his basement, for a surprise. But if some Kadagidi assassin was hiding down there in the dark—
“Maybe you should tell them to search the basement, nadiin-ji,” Cajeiri said.
“One is sure they aresearching it,” Lucasi said. “But we will mention it.”